A Message from the Purest Heart
by LuannLu
Summary: He is her secret escape of life; she is his untold object of affection. If fate ever allowed, they wished to be a part of the other's world. (One-Shot. 19th century AU.)


**_Hello_**_** to everyone who drops by! **_

_**This is an one-shot set in sometime around 1860s to 1880s in England. (Just take it as a general idea for picturing this story. No historical event in it.) I got the feels and idea of this story after I read "****The Weakest of Hearts" written by OniNoKo. (It's a beautiful one-shot. If you haven't read it go check it!) Maybe there's also something to do with the sad songs I've been listening to recently. **_

_******Anyway, **__**I really hope you'd enjoy this story! **_

_********__**Disclaimer: This story uses characters from Rise of the Guardians and Frozen, which are owned by DreamWorks and Disney. The story itself belong to the author. The story is made for entertainment purpose only.**_

* * *

Her smile is beautiful but rare.

She's the daughter of the richest family in town, and the daughter of the family his mom's been working for. He gets his chance to see her through her window every afternoon when he gets to the grand mansion to walk his mom home after work. To him, she's like the well-protected princess, living in the highest, most isolated room, away from the hard, rough reality they've been living in. If fate ever has its way, there would never be any intersection of his and her lives. But sometimes, maybe, there are things that are even greater than fate.

He distinctly remembers, before she moves in her current room, which locates at the back side of the house and holds the view of the back garden and the small alley to the servant house he'd walk by every day, he only gets to catch a glimpse of her twice.

The first time he caught her sight was the day they moved in. He was only ten, with no abilities for work and no money for school, hence his mom found it necessary to bring him with her to work. His mom had got this job as a cleaning lady before the family even arrived. She'd been working hard to have the house perfectly cleaned before the day, and got up early for her future masters' coming. He had been warned umpteenth times that day to stay away from the main entryway. He followed his mother's words for the entire morning, but his curiosity overpowered him when he heard the clattering sound of the horse hooves and the rolling wheels. He hid behind the turn of the vine-covered brick wall, watching the Anderson family get off the carriage. And he saw her, probably the same age as him, trailing behind her parents in a navy blue dress, ruffles in her skirt and intricate embroidery around the hem of that expensive fabric. Her platinum-blonde hair was in a sophisticated plait, brushing gently against her polished jawline and down her left shoulder, setting off the girl's delicate features. And, out of the blue, she caught his eyes. It was the purest blue he'd ever seen, clearer than a cloudless sky and deeper than a pristine lake. He saw her study him with an air of interest and so he pulled up his brightest smile and waved at her, carefully not to be seen by her parents. The girl stole a glance at her parents before she nodded politely at him with a small smile. He beamed.

The next time he caught her sight was years after. He was thirteen. He'd been working at a nearby colliery for a year. He reached the mansion in the early afternoon due to an early leave of work, and came across the leaving womenfolk of the Andersons. According to their dressing, they were possibly leaving for an afternoon tea party. The younger sibling of the Andersons clung affectionately to her mother, sharing light talks with the regal woman in the head of the group of four. And he saw her, grown much taller but still looking petite compared to himself, again trailing behind the others, walking in a refined manner with the company of their maid. Despite the three passing years, she was everything he'd remembered she'd been, and even more beautiful as his gaze landed on her slightly maturer features. He watched her mutely at the corner of the street as the women walk by, inwardly wishing the girl would notice his presence. Maybe he had wished out loud without himself knowing, the girl shifted her gaze and met his. They were the same blue he'd seen in his dream, but somehow they looked different. They were trapped, by something he couldn't figure out. He was wistful to see the once carefree spirit on her face gone. The girl seemed to not recognize him as she turned to look away, but then she paused. She turned back and squinted her eyes, watching thoughtfully at him. He suddenly remembered the condition he was in as he quickly rubbed his face with the already stained sleeve of his shirt, hoping to have his face a bit cleaner from all the coal marks on his face. He lowered his arm and peered back at her, his lips spreading into a sheepish smile. She blinked once as though she'd finally recall the messy boy, but before she could give any response, her mother called her name.

"_Elsa, hurry up a bit, we are going to be late."_

"_Yes, mother."_

She turns to take a quick glance of him. She gave him a little nod before she picked up her pace to leave. He watched the women disappear around the next corner and stepped out of his spot. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of loss, for the missing smile in her lips.

* * *

His smile is common but penetrating nonetheless.

He's the son of her family's cleaning lady, and the brother of his soon-to-be-maid sister. She gets her chance to see him through her window every afternoon when he gets off work from the colliery and comes to walk his mother home. To her, he is supposed to be just another random worker striding down the uneven, muddy servant passageway, struggling in the tough, ugly lives her father's been trying hard to protect her from. If lives keep working like how they should be, there would never be any chance left for her to know the bright boy with his coal-stained face and his confusingly glowing smile. But sometimes, just _maybe_, there are things that even destiny can't deny.

She distinctly remembers, before her father asked her to move to this even more desolate room down the huge, empty corridor, telling her she's come to an age where she shouldn't been easily seen by others from the front window of their house, she's only get to see two boys wearing such a befuddling smile at her, which she later realized to be the same boy who walks by down her window every day, every afternoon.

In the future, when she looks back at her memories, she could always see the half hidden face at the turn of the brick wall of her new home and the coal marked face shaded by the building from the agreeable sunlight that early afternoon, clearly, smiling at her with genuineness, shyness and expectancy.

But before that, she is just a confused girl, living in a safe but unappealing world, a time where a daughter can never be a truly important member of the house and get shut out from the chance of being handed down the family business—even though she got the abilities and interests—by the expectation of the society from the very beginning. Despite the fact, homeschooling never ceases. How to become a genteel lady and get ready to marry the finest man from another rich family becomes her goal of learning, regardless of her own will. There her life becomes anything but something worth looking forward to, until that day, the day she caught his gaze through her window for the very first time.

She had only moved to her new room for a week and she was already bored by the suffocating quietness that drowned amidst those four dull walls. It didn't take long for her to decide that the only window in her room would have to serve as her temporary escape. She was leaning against the window frame that afternoon, after she excused herself from another useless etiquette lesson of hers, gazing absentmindedly at the narrow alley outside their back garden wall. She might be counting the number of the unorderly planted flat stones forming the plain passageway to the servant house when the boy appeared around the head of the road. Brown hair and fair skin, the boy was in a regular outfit like any other working class would be in, a white shirt, which had long been dirtied with coal cinder and mud, and a pair of brown trousers, a bit too short to touch that pair of matching colored old shoes of his. He walked in a rather brisk manner, hopping from stones to stones as he quickly made his way half down the path. He looked up when he reached under her window, so naturally that it almost looked like he'd done so every time he passed by. And before she could show any embarrassment for peeking him through her window, he jolted the moment he met her gaze, seemingly to never expect to meet eyes to eyes with the owner of the room. He quickly composed himself and gave her a small bow. When he straightened back up, he'd had pulled on a dashing smile, so wide that she could see all those pearly white teeth through his curling lips.

She hesitated whether she could return the smile, a smile that was as sincere as his, not the one that she'd been taught to put up perfectly for every social event she'd had to attend to. A few awkward moments went by as the boy kept smiling up at her and she silently stared back with as little expression as one could find on her face. His smile faded a bit, just a tiny bit, while his chocolate brown eyes, filled up with warm waves of understanding which she didn't understand, fixed steadily on hers. He flashed her another smile before he opened his mouth.

_"Good afternoon, Miss Anderson. I am the son of the cleaning lady Diana. My name's Jack. Jack Frost."_

She was just about to return the greet when she heard her sister, Anna, call from outside her room. She turned to the door as her sister's sound whispering through the wooden board.

_"Elsa, come out quick, mom found out you skip the lesson."_

_"Coming, Anna."_

She turned back to her window, seeing the boy still watching her from the same spot he'd been standing in below, with the same smile on his mud-soiled face. He seemed to have overheard her sister's words as he waved his hand at her, gesturing her to take her leave. Her eyes darted to the door once again before they quickly return to the boy. She tried, tugged up the corner of her lips to form a genuine smile like his, but she guessed she failed as she saw a bit of glint vanished in those clear brown eyes. She pressed her lips. Giving the boy a quick nod as salute, she left the room, silently wishing her unsuccessful smile wouldn't drive the boy away.

It had nothing to do with her longing for a friend, she thought to herself. She just hadn't got to figure out why a poor worker boy could pull up such a beautifully brilliant smile. Yes, that was what it was. And she didn't exhale in relief when she saw him show up again the very next day.

He becomes her secret solacement of her tiring, set days. She tries to spare every afternoon to sneak back to her room just to see him walk down the path and give her that signature smile of his. She doesn't tell anyone of this little interaction between her and the worker boy, not even to her little sister. She convinces herself it is nothing worth telling since they don't even get to talk much. The boy has tried to talk to her in their first few encounters, but backed down in the later week due to her stubborn silence and starts giving her every kind of smiles whenever he gets the chance to pass her room.

She knows it is unfair to the friendly boy and wonders if she should at least try to address him by his name. But she is afraid to get too attached to the owner of that warm, touching smile, for some reasons she cannot tell, or probably, for some reasons she's been too deeply engraved in her head. She believes it would be better for both of them if all they get are some mildly intimate moments like a meet of eyes and a soft wish of good night. But something cracks in her heart when she waits at her window that afternoon, sobbing quietly after being scolded by her father for giving out opinions during the lunch meal with his new business partners, staring desperately at the head of that passageway and seeing him stride down the stone-paved alley. He looks up to smile at her when he reaches her window and pauses in astonishment when he sees her tears. She musters all her willpower to tug up her lips and notices, for the very first time, the boy doesn't return the gesture. He stares at her with his brows slightly furrowed. That chocolate brown eyes she's at last been drawn to is now flooded with concern and worry. He hesitates for a brief second before he decides it isn't the time to respect her insistence of reserved way of communication.

"What happened? Why are you crying… Miss Anderson?"

She shakes her head, not really wants to tell, but finally manages to stop her sob and her falling tears. Though the boy isn't a least bit satisfied with the response he receives.

"What's wrong? Could you...will you please tell me?"

She shakes her head again, but somehow this time, few words escape her lips, rough like an old lady's husky voice.

"I... I feel caged."

It is an extremely vague answer to his question but the boy nods in understanding anyway.

"I know."

He whispers, biting his bottom lip as though he's trying hard to figure out a solution for her. Looking down at his coal-covered hands, he ponders for a moment before he looks up at her again, a somehow impish smile placing across his smart features. She watches confusedly at him as he tries his best to clean his face with his smeared shirt and lets out a soft chuckles as she sees him using his coal-stained finger to draw a mustache on his upper lips, which is uncannily identical to her father's. He straightens his back and squares his shoulders, bringing one hand to his mouth as he clears his throat.

"Young lady, it is utterly unacceptable to cry before such a dashing gentleman and give no explanation or sort. But since this young man is too stunned by your beauty and notice nothing, I would kindly let it go this time. Just remember, you are a gift to this awfully dark world. Your smile can light up a poor boy's day. You can do so much more than you believe you could do. Try to pull up a smile then you will know."

She could feel tears threaten to well up in her eyes again as she listens to his words. She lifts her chin a tad just to blink away the tears before she looks back down at the boy and pulls up a genuine smile. The effect upon the boy is magnificent as his lips spread into a wide, endearing smile, and his chocolate brown eyes glitter with sheer content, brighter than any jewelry that she'd seen other upper-class ladies proudly bragging of. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of the glowing boy while her cheeks start coloring up with a rare heated sensation she never felt before. But somehow, she feels powerful, stronger even, while she has the warm feeling running through her veins and soothing her trembling mood. She flashes the boy another smile before she opens her mouth and let the name roll off her tongue.

"Thank you, Jack."

The boy, Jack, freezes in his place when he hears his name come out of the girl's mouth for the first time. It should have been impossible for his smile to grow bigger, but it does anyhow. He smiles sillily at her for a rather long period of time before he bends forward to take a playful bow with a flourish of his hand. He looks up at her in his half bent position as he speaks in his smooth, velvet voice.

"It's my honor, my fair lady."

Biting her lip to stifle a chuckle, she then raises her voice to respond with an air of jesting condescendence.

"I'm Elsa."

Jack beams, voice even softer when it leaves his lips.

"I know."

There passes a long, comfortable silence as the girl and boy stare into each other's eyes, secretly devouring the sweetness of the moment with the other's presence.

Neither of them want to break that moment, but the setting sun and the change of color in the sky remind Jack of the time. Elsa feels that heated sensation once again raising from somewhere deep inside her when she is met with that last smile he gives her. A smile that softens his features, softens his gaze, softens his stance, and tightens her heart. There are something swirling fiercely in those warm, sparkling brown eyes, screaming to be spoken up. But at last, he only salutes.

"Good night... Elsa."

* * *

She feels revived when she wakes up the next morning. The sunlight that breaks rudely in her bedroom couldn't have been any different from yesterday. But she feels different. She feels so close to be free. That, after getting stuck for so long, she finally gets the strength to make things different, make lives right.

She misses her first chance at breakfast as her father has left for an early meeting and would not be home before her morning lessons.

She is utterly surprised at how composed she is through out the dreary lessons when every passing minute could be the last minute of her past, caged life.

She misses her second chance during lunch as her father is still in town, getting hold by the morning meeting, and the teacher of the afternoon lesson is already at the door. Her patience finally worms out as the hands of the hang clock in the study room reaches the point where it shouts incredulously loud at her that it is four sharp. She's about to excuse herself again to end the class early when someone knocks on the door. She calls for the person to come in, and in walks their house butler, Kai.

Kai bows slightly at both women in the room before he turns to his young lady.

"Miss Elsa, there's someone at the door asking for you."

"Who is it?"

"It's a miner boy."

Elsa almost jumps in her chair as she quickly picks up herself and stands up gracefully. She politely asks for a quick leave to get the door. But when she opens the front door, it isn't the boy she's expecting to see.

Similar hair color, similar age, darker skin, the minor boy standing in the doorway looks hesitantly at her before he speaks.

"Are you Miss Elsa Anderson?"

She nods, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes."

The boy squirms uneasily on his spot.

"Um... I came here for Jack. Do-do you know Jack? Jack Frost?"

She nods again.

"Why didn't he come by himself?"

The boy looks even more uneasy with the question.

"Th-there's an accident at the colliery today. A collapse. Most people were killed on the spot. And Jack..."

Elsa freezes. She doesn't know whether she should call it lucky when her body refuses to function the moment those words sink in, as she has no faith that her legs could hold her any longer from falling.

Th boy holds out one hand. There, held between the boy's fingers, is a small wild daisy, fully blossomed with every petal, as white as driven snow, stretching out with so much life.

"Jack was delayed to pick this flower. So he...I don't know if it's a fortune or not, he got extra time to ask me to give this to you..."

Something beyond her must have taken over her at the time as her hand holds out to take the flower despite herself. She looks down at the small white flower in her palm, view blurring up as tears start welling up in her eyes. It might not be a flower, she thinks to herself. It's so cold. Maybe I am holding a snowflake.

"Any... anything he'd said?"

She croaks as memories washes over her, of yesterday, of that last smile of his. That word-filling eyes.

"He wished you happy. Happy, free, and loved."

And she guesses she no longer needs any chance.

* * *

_"This... to Elsa... Elsa... Anderson..."_

_"Jack, stop, stop talking. You've hurt your lung..."_

_"Tell her... please..."_

_"Jack... tell her what..."_

_Daisy, _speaks for a pure love,

_"Tell her... I... I... wish her ha... happy... free, and... loved..."_

a love that I'll never tell.

_"Okay, I got it, Jack. Anything else? Jack? Jack!"_

* * *

For sometimes, there's no maybe, because fate has its plan.

* * *

**_Okay, now I can say: I feel sorry, I feel bad, I feel like I am a horrible human being to write something like this... _****_I would not believe in myself in a million years that I'd really kill off Jack in one of my stories! I loathe myself..._**

**_Anyway, um, I'd really hope you didn't hate this story (or hate me!?) because of the fact that I killed Jack and still willing to kindly leave a review to let me know how you think about it._**

**_And for anyone out there that has read my other story "Brew, Books, and Bloom", I promise I won't be kidnapped by another plot bunny before I finish the next chapter. And for those who haven't, you can go check that one if you need some light and fluffy moments._**

**_Feel free to follow(?), favorite or review! Love, LuAnn_**


End file.
